


내 우주 아르

by deltachye



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Father, Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Alternate Universe - Surgeons, Alternate Universe - Teachers, F/M, One Shot Collection, Other, Reader-Insert, alternate universe - figure skating, probably won't be continued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2019-02-11 00:56:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12923871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x various mystic messenger, aus]You make my whole world go round. You make my whole world stand still. You make my life worth living. You... are my universe.[reupload of 2016 vers/collab. ∆chye written entries only]





	1. [hyun ryu - zen ; figure skater au]

Applause rained down upon the rink like showers of sparkling rain. Whistles, cheers, and screams punctured the applause every now and then as Yoosung bowed to the four corners. Yoosung Kim, the youngest member of Team Korea, skated over to the gate with wobbly knees. He took a final bow before collapsing onto the rink board, panting heavily. You reached forwards on tippy-toes and tousled his sweaty hair, not minding the grimy feeling.

“Yoosung, good job! You did so well!”

“Thanks,” he wheezed out, a radiant smile lighting up his exhausted face. You passed him his bottle of water and he drank greedily, clambering inside. He brushed the snow off of his skates with his star anagrammed cloth as Jumin, team Korea’s coach and primary sponsor, crossed his arms and nodded once with a straight face. 

“You might get deducted for missing a revolution on the triple salchow. Your hesitation on the last quad might also be where the judges dock you, and your combination spin was sloppy at best… but you did well. Congratulations, Yoosung.”

“Woah woah woah, Jumin’s congratulating the rookie? What’s the world come to?” Luciel, the team’s choreographer, guffawed at Yoosung’s starry-eyed face as he drank up Jumin’s rare praise. The red-haired man pushed his glasses up his nose with a mischievous grin. “Let’s see what Coach Han has to say after we see Yoosung’s scores, eh?”

“Don’t be mean!” you chided, slapping the red-haired man on the arm. “He did really good for his first time at the senior level!”

“Yeah, yeah. Oi, Yoosung! Since you’re finally finished, here’s a bag of Honey Buddha Chips.”

“S-seriously?!” the blond blurted out, nearly dropping his blue-green skate protector onto the ground where his jaw lay. “You’ll really let me have it?!” 

Luciel tossed the bag of prized chips to Yoosung, who fumbled but immediately tucked it under his arm like a dragon caging its golden prize. The ace choreographer chuckled with amusement, tucking his hands into his jeans pockets. You had told him not to wear such informal clothes to the big show, but Luciel did what he wanted to. That was probably how he came up with such original, show-stealing programs. He grinned fondly at the younger man. 

“You’re done weight cuts now. You deserve it. Until next season, got it?”

“Just don’t get too fat,” Jaehee, the team’s manager, advised from the sideline. Despite the firm tone, she was also laughing gently. Yoosung’s performance had lightened everybody’s mood greatly. Jaehee then pointed up at the screen, moving everybody’s attention all at once. “Everybody, I think they’re going to announce the scores.” 

“Stand up, Yoosung,” Jumin ordered. “Look at the cameras.”

“And stop looking like you’re about to cry. People like you because you’re cute, but we ran out of tissues, so you won’t look cool if you cry,” Luciel added. V, who had been standing quietly until now, laughed gently. V was the team’s official coach and leader, but after a horrific skating accident that did permanent damage to his eyes, Jumin had taken the reins. Still, V made sure to show up to each practice and show to give his support.

“Smile, Yoosung.” He held up his camera and the team waited with bated breaths.

“Yoosung Kim, South Korea.” The English was hard on your untrained ears but you could read the numbers all the same. 50.34 here, 47.18 there. A total score of 97.52!

Another cheer of pure elation bubbled out from you and you hugged the boy around the waist, since he was so much taller on his skates, despite being the shortest man of the group. He stared, dumbfounded at the numbers. 

“You did it! You’re number two!” you practically squealed. “You beat out Canada! We actually beat out Canada!”

“I… I did it? I seriously did it?”

“Shooting Star!” Luciel chanted, using the blond’s pet stagename. He hugged Yoosung from the other side, dragging the boy’s head down for a painful-looking noogie. “Superman Yoosung Shooting Star flies on past the moon and sun! You did it, boy!”

Even Jumin could be seen dabbing at his eyes with a silk handkerchief, discreetly passed to him by Jaehee, who was smiling through misty amber eyes. V took photos quietly but after lowering the camera, you could see the grin on his own features. 

“But since Yoosung’s number two,” a voice cut in, quieting the celebrations. “That leaves only one space for me… number one.”

You turned and looked up at Zen, who was grinning slyly. Jumin cleared his throat and tucked the handkerchief into his suit pocket.

“Are you ready, then?” Jumin asked, doing his best to ignore the fact that his voice had cracked. Zen scoffed.

“I was born ready, Jumin! Stop looking so constipated. I’m going to blow the show out of the water.” He looked down at you and gave you a secret wink. In a whisper meant only for you, he murmured, “after all, I’ve got a special lady cheering me on.”

“Do your best!” you breathed, your heart suddenly pounding very hard in your chest. Despite the cool air of the indoor rink, your face felt burning hot. “I know you’ll win!”

“I won’t say it now, because I want to say it when I win. But you know what I mean, don’t you?” He tousled your hair and you nodded, clenching your fists determinedly.

“Give them hell!” you said. He smirked and you stepped aside so he could pass, feeling the aura of his confidence just by being near him. Jumin clapped the silver-haired man on the shoulder once, and that was enough to communicate what he needed to say. Jaehee snapped a photo with her cellphone. When she saw that you had noticed, she spoke behind her hand.

“For the fansite. A recording from the sidelines would boost traffic through the roof!”

“Should I record too, then?” you asked. She nodded and you slipped out your phone, pressing record just as Zen exited out onto the ice, waving cheerily to excited screeches from the audience. 

_“Next, last but not least, Hyun Ryu of South Korea. Or as he’s better known by fans, Zen.”_

_“Zen’s quite young. He’s not quite as young as previous novice skater Yoosung Kim, who was 21, but Zen has been skating for years. Rumour has it that the young man has been skating ever since he could walk.”_

_“Yes. Zen had a major breakthrough when he was only 16 years old through a TubeYou clip of his performance to a popular K-Pop song. Many people say they like him because of his fearlessness, good looks, and androgyny. He signed on with Korea’s famous coaching company C &R and has worked with Coaches V and Jumin Han ever since.”_

_“V was a superstar before his accident. If I recall, he was the only Asian male figure skater to get a perfect score in the short program at Skate America.”_

_“Pity we won’t see him skate anymore… but having Jumin Han as well as V on your side is practically a guaranteed success.”_

_“Do you think there is a rivalry between Zen and Yoosung? After all, Yoosung is considered a prodigy and hasn’t been skating for half as long as Zen.”_

_“Most likely there’s some competitive rivalry, but nothing that would tear them apart. The entirety of Team Korea looks to be quite close this year. You can see they all have tight bonds.”_

_“I’ve heard that Zen has dedicated the short program today to his special somebody.”_

_“Oh? Well then, it could be enough to upset Japan’s lead in first. A routine choreographed with love in mind is bound to win!”_

_“That’s what we have to hope for. We might end up seeing another V; an angel that plummets to the ground.”_

_“Fingers crossed, Ms. Vera. Let’s knock on wood.”_

Zen skated a couple practice circles around the ice. He’d had his time to warm up at the beginning with the others, but now that his turn was finally here, the pressure was on. On the gigantic rink, he suddenly felt the loneliness. His performance was the one that’d be remembered. He couldn’t fail. He skated another circle, his eyes landing on you. You waved at him, blowing a kiss past the phone in your hands. He blew one back before stopping center stage, inhaling deeply with a delicate smile on his face. He stretched his arms back, fanned out delicate fingers, and waited.

_“Zen has skated to all sorts of rhythms. He’s a very dynamic young man, going from rock to classical to pop.”_

_“Yes, it’s very hard to predict what Zen will do next. That’s a part of his charm. It seems like he’s chosen a jazzy, classical theme for today.”_

_“It must be inspired by his true love, then. The title of the piece is ‘Pragma’, a theme that suggests a long-lasting love rather than the initial spark most people feel.”_

_“Beautiful movements. Very fluid.”_

_“His first jump is a double axel double toe loop. Very few people have the confidence to start off so strong.”_

_“A mistake here could break the rest of his routine.”_

_“And…”_

Your scream of joy added to the others’ as he executed it perfectly, his black skates gliding on the ice as if it were air. The silver blade gleamed, flashing intermittently as he skated past, switching step so effortlessly it looked as if he weren’t even real. You wanted to jump up and down with glee but remembered you were recording and settled down, holding your breath so that you wouldn’t cry. It was a big moment for Zen. He hadn’t ever been able to make it to the main stage before because of his financial situation, but now… through Jumin’s sponsoring, the team’s support, and his own hard work, he had made it to the forefront of Team Korea. You couldn’t be more proud. 

_“Flawless execution. No hesitation. You can tell that Zen has worked hard, building experience through the years.”_

_“Honestly, I feel as if I’m watching somebody write history with the blade of their skate onto the ice. When he skates past you can’t hear a single thing. Effortless.”_

“Come on, Zen…” Jumin muttered, pulling sharply on his sleeves, something he did when he got nervous. The rarity of Jumin losing confidence was enough for you to notice right away that Jumin was getting anxious. “Don’t get too cocky, for God’s sake… Keep your head cool…”

V put a hand on his childhood friend’s shoulder. “Hyun will be fine. Stop worrying so much. He has [Name] here to support him, no?”

You blushed slightly as V winked at you but pressed your lips together, your eyes enraptured solely by Zen. Yoosung stepped up next to you and breathed in deeply as Zen did another jump, gracefully twirling through the air as if it were no trouble at all. 

“Someday… Man. I can only _wish_ to be like him. I can’t even begin to hope to do a triple salchow, and he acts as if a quad is nothing…” Yoosung sighed, with a tinge of admiration and jealousy. Luciel leant forwards on the rink board, snorting to himself.

“Listen Yoosung, it’s not about difficult moves. You could pull a perfect technical and still fail because you didn’t have passion. It’s all about style… and Zen’s pretty much the most stylish douchebag out there.” He looked over at you. “You think he’s gonna start singing ‘I love you’ to [Name] and not get off the ice even after his time’s up?” Luciel suggested jokingly. “That seems like the annoying thing he’d do.”

“I wouldn’t even mind,” you admitted sheepishly, despite Luciel’s over-exaggerated cringing to your sappy response. “I love him too.”

_“And we are wrapping up the program with a last triple axel. It’s considered an advanced move even for seniors, but after what we’ve seen Zen do today, it has to be child’s play for him.”_

_“I wouldn’t be surprised if he makes it through with a perfect score. He’ll have beaten his mentor V’s record if he can pull this off.”_

_“Yes, and he’s approaching—oh my god. Oh my god!”_

_“Oh my god, he’s fallen—”_

_“Is that blood?”_

_“He must have hit his head.”_

_“He’s not moving.”_

_“Oh my god…”_

“Medic! Where the hell is the medic!” Jumin was yelling hoarsely at a woman in a yellow medic’s jacket. She said nothing, staring off onto the ice with dumb shock. She turned to look at you, muttering in Mandarin quietly with wide eyes. You didn’t know what she was saying, but you could understand her thoughts all the same.

_“Zen’s fallen, but how?”_

“Get it together and _help_ him!” Jumin roared, his fury enough to shatter you out of your own daze. Jumin was so panicked that he wasn’t even speaking the same language, jumbling words together. You looked away from him to Zen, squinting through the phone screen. A pool of crimson liquid the colour of his beautiful, warm eyes seeped out from him as if it were a halo. The temperature of the ice froze the blood as it pooled out, slowing its movement across the ice. The chill of the arena made you feel numb. You lowered the phone, hoping that you’d see something different—instead, every colour was that much more contrasted, and it was that much more _real_. 

“Our father who art in heaven…” Jaehee was praying madly, words of pleas flying off of her lips as her hand gripped hand. Luciel was already on the phone with the nearest hospital, chattering wildly in English before switching into angry Mandarin. Yoosung hugged your shoulders, calling your name. You couldn’t say anything. You could only stare.

“Zen?” you asked finally, your voice so quiet that nobody heard. “Zen, wake up… It’s time to get up now, honey…”

He lay, broken on the ice. Those three words were caught on his lips, never to be said. As you watched, a bouquet slipped out of somebody’s frozen hands from the upper tier of the stands. Rose petals, deep rusty red, fluttered out over the ice. 

Like angel feathers from a fallen body.

“He won’t wake up. Yoosung?” You turned to look away from the scene and pulled on the younger man’s shirt pleadingly. “Why won’t he wake up?”

“He fell,” he replied simply, the words carrying heavier meaning than they should have.

Somebody was screaming, and only later when you had lost your voice did you realize it was you.

\---

“…okay. But … surgery… ankle …”

Your English was too lacking to fully understand. Accompanied with the shock that had sat with you throughout the entire ordeal, you could barely blink, much less comprehend the words the doctor was saying. He gestured to Jumin, who was nodding, his face grim. Luciel paced the waiting room, gnawing on his fingernails, and Jaehee held your hand stiffly.

“Never… skate again. I’m … sorry.”

You closed your eyes so that the tears would not well over.

“He’s alive,” Jaehee soothed quietly, pulling you into a hug. “At least he’s alive.”

“But… skating was his whole life. He’ll be so devastated…”

“But he’s alive.”

“But he’ll wish he was _dead_!” you shrieked, burying your face into her shoulder.

\---

“You’re awake, Hyun!?” 

V was the first to notice, despite having the worst eyesight of everybody in the room. The blue haired man sat up in his chair. Jumin woke with a start and shook off his grogginess, crossing over to the hospital bed.

“Can you hear me?” he asked harshly, snapping his fingers. V shushed him loudly and looked back at you. You understood what he was trying to say and stood from your seat, walking over shakily. Zen was blinking slowly as if still trying to come to. Once you peered over him, a lazy smile settled over his handsome features and he reached an arm out for you. You grasped his hand, curling your fingers around the bulky pulse clip. You struggled to hold back tears, smiling for him instead so that he wouldn’t worry.

“Hey, Zen,” you whispered. “Do you… do you remember me?”

“Of course,” he mumbled throatily. “My love, how could I forget?”

“Oh, thank god.” You nearly collapsed onto the bed with relief. After seeing him carted away in the ambulance, you had been worrying non-stop if he would recognize you if he woke up. _If_ he woke up. “Zen, I was so worried… Zen…!”

“Hey, why are you crying? I’m fine. Just a twisted ankle and a little concussion, right?” He reached his other hand up and cradled your cheek, the cool surface of the IV tube pressing into your skin. V shifted on his feet uncomfortably and Jumin looked at you as if for permission. You shook your head minutely. _No, not yet._

“So, what happened?” Zen asked, his voice upbeat to dispel the obvious depression that hung around the group like a cold fog. “Did I seriously mess up the _last_ jump?”

“I think your toe pick could have caught on a rough patch. I most certainly will have to sue the rink.” Jumin seemed relieved to be able to talk about something he could handle—alternately, the things he could handle were any topic not pertaining to emotions. He adjusted his sleeves, tugging on them before looking away guiltily. 

“Damn… all because of that. Well, Yoosung got silver, right? And I’ll be remembered as the guy who tripped and fell on his face, haha.”

“It’s not that simple,” Luciel blurted out, his voice strained with emotion. You looked up at him pleadingly—God, _please_ don’t break his heart!—but Luciel went on. “You completely tore out the ligaments of your ankle. Shattered bones. Screwed everything up. Even with the surgery they couldn’t get it right again. Zen, you won’t be able to skate anymore. You’ll be lucky if you can _walk_.”

The room was silent with a mixture of horror and guilt. Jumin closed his eyes and Jaehee turned away to sob, her body shuddering silently.

“What’re you saying?” Zen said finally, his grip on your hand loosening somewhat as a nervous grin flit across his features. “I heal like a monster, remember? I’ll probably be out of here in time to watch Yoosung in the closing ceremony—!”

“Nobody can heal from this,” Luciel said flatly. Coldly. Honestly. “Zen, it’s over. You’re done.”

“…you’re lying.”

Zen’s denial hurt you even more and the tears that you had been struggling to hold back for his sake broke through. You clung to his hand as if that might make things okay and wept, through hiccupping sobs,

“I’m sorry, Zen, I’m so sorry…”

“You’re lying,” he breathed again. “It can’t…”

“I’m so sorry…”

For the first time since you’d known him, he did not bother to reassure you and instead lay with quiet disbelief. His hand in your hand was completely slack and it was only your desperate clinging to him that was holding him up.

“You’re saying it’s all over?” Zen repeated as you finally calmed down, sniffling intermittently. You wiped your tears.

“I love you,” you murmured. To your surprise, Zen smiled, albeit bitterly.

“That was going to be my line when I won.” He looked to Jumin. “Now you’re saying… I won’t ever be able to skate again?”

“I…” Jumin was speechless. Luciel winced and Yoosung, who had been quiet the entire time, shook his head and left the room. Zen closed his eyes and lay back down in his pillows.

“It’s just a bad dream,” he said to himself quietly, clear tears trailing down the pale skin of his tall nose. “Just a bad dream… when I wake up, [Name] will be there to hug me, and I’ll have my medal strung around her neck… she’ll be whispering my name…”

You finally let go of his hand and exited the room so you could hide your agonizing weeps.

\---

“You’re smoking again?”

He yelped with surprise and crushed the cigarette in the ashtray, but you had already seen and smelt it. The smoke of tobacco lingered on him, unable to be willed away by his guilty smile. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered as you crossed your arms, leaning in the doorway. He sighed and reached down for the wheels of his chair, coming close to you. “I’m pathetic, I know.”

“You’re not pathetic, Zen. But you have to stay healthy to recover.”

His face darkened immediately and he clenched his jaw, tendons jumping out from under the nearly translucent skin. 

“Recover?” he repeated quietly in a hollow voice. He scoffed and turned away from you aggressively. You reached a hand out.

“Zen, wait—”

“No, it’s fine. Just leave me be. I’m crippled now, what’s another smoke or two?”

“Zen…”

“It’ll kill me? Fine.” He snorted before disappearing from sight, his words trailing behind him like translucent blue-grey smoke. “I’m just shortening the damn process.”

You could not find the strength to follow him.

\---

“Good luck, Yoosung.” You smiled at the young boy, who smiled back. The grin was strained but the two of you pretended not to notice.

“Thanks. I wish Zen could’ve been here, though…”

“Yeah, well…” You looked away guiltily. “He won’t talk to me anymore. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’ll do my best to cheer him up, so don’t look so down, okay? Fighting!”

You nodded and watched him skate out, waving out to the audience. A ghostly image of Zen, his hair trailing out behind him like a ribbon, overlapped in your mind. You quietly exited the sidelines and dialled his number on your phone, your back hitting a wall as you slid to the ground. The music of Yoosung’s program shook the walls mutedly. 

“Zen… Hyun… it’s me. I miss you. I want to talk to you… Yoosung’s skating right now. I’m sure he’ll do great. And… I love you. You know that right? I loved you then and I love you now. I’ll love you forever. So please… don’t tell me you stopped loving me…” You hung up before he could hear you cry and shoved fists into your eyes, struggling to recollect yourself for Yoosung’s sake.

At home, Zen threw back yet another shot of hard liquor as he listened to your voicemail repeat over and over.

\---

“Where is he?”

“L-Luciel? What are you doing here, it’s like, 3 am…”

“Where’s Zen?” he persisted, peering past you into the dark home. “I need to talk to him. Zen! Hyun Ryu! Douchebag Supreme!”

“Shh!” you pleaded, stepping aside and ushering him in so he would shut up. “You’ll wake up all the neighbours! What in the world is it that it couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?”

“I found a guy who says that he can get Zen to skate again.” Luciel’s voice brimmed with excitement and he rounded on you, grasping both of your shoulders to shake you awake. “There’s some electroshock therapy and some medicine mumbo jumbo. It’s expensive but that’s what Jumin’s for, right?! So, where is he?”

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted.

“What? Don’t you guys still live together?”

“Yes, but he leaves late and doesn’t tell me where he’s going… if I ask he yells at me, so I’ve sort of just gotten used to not knowing where he is.”

“…is he okay?” Luciel asked, his energy dying down at last. You shrugged, hugging yourself.

“Can he ever be okay? All he every wanted to do is skate but he’s lost that. To what? A crack in the ice? I don’t think…”

“What the hell’s the door open for?”

Zen appeared in the doorway, looking disgruntled. He saw Luciel and his scowl faded into a confused grimace.

“Luciel? What are you doing here?”

“Listen to me.” 

He explained from start to finish and you saw Zen’s face change bit by bit, until he reached up and grabbed Luciel’s collar. You gasped with horror as Luciel choked, dragged down by Zen’s strong grip.

“You’re serious?” Zen whispered, and you realized that he wasn’t trying to attack Luciel, but was holding onto him for reality. “You’re serious? I could walk—no, I could skate?”

“I’m not promising anything, but we have to try.” Luciel grasped Zen’s hand and they stared at each other, man to man. 

Zen let go of Luciel’s shirt before raking it through his hair.

“…no.”

“ _No_?” you repeated in disbelief. “What do you mean, no?! This could be your chance, Zen! Do you even hear what you’re saying?”

He smiled at you, the first time he’d done so in a near year. “[Name]… being in this chair made me realize how pathetic I am. I went back to smoking and drinking, binge-eating and laziness… This is the real me. The figure skater Zen? He died a long time ago. I’m just Hyun Ryu now. Do you think God would just let me off the hook so easily? I fell from grace for a reason. It’s because I’m not meant for the main stage. People like Yoosung… _he_ deserves it. Not me. _This_ is what I deserve.”

You walked forwards and slapped him, the sound resounding across the entire room. Luciel stepped away from you quickly as you slapped Zen with the back of your hand, rocking his wheelchair the other way in your fury.

“What the hell do you mean Zen is dead? The Zen I know is still here! So what if you drink and smoke and binge-eat right now? So what? All you need to do is work hard! Like when you were broke and in high school, and could only skate on the ponds outside… I can forgive you for the way you’ve been these past few months, but I will never forgive you if you turn down this opportunity!” With tears in your eyes you might’ve slapped him again, but instead, he laughed, stopping you. It was a resounding, hearty laugh that hadn’t been heard in too long. 

“…okay.”

“O-okay?” you repeated, stunned. “That was… fast.”

“Okay. Yes. Let’s do it. I’ll work hard… but this time, I’ll work hard for you. Not for me.”

Luciel broke the moment by snickering.

“Zen, she’s got a mean right.”

“Oh!” you gasped, reaching down and pressing on your lover’s cheeks with the palms of your hands gently. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry for hitting you. Are you okay?”

Zen laughed again, the sound of it like music to your tired ears. Ears that had heard nothing but bitterness and sorrow for far too long. He reached up and took your head in his hands.

“I will be soon, my love. Just wait.”

\---

“Jihyun! Turn to look at the camera!”

You waved to the little boy who, at the sound of his mother’s voice, turned obediently and threw up double peace signs with a toothless grin. Jeong, jealous of her older brother’s stage-time, pushed in front and waved aggressively. You giggled at the sight as Zen skated up behind them, scooping up both children in his arms as they screeched with surprise and delight.

It took years to rebuild the strength needed to skate once more. In the end, Zen never performed again, but he seemed to have given his passion to Yoosung, who was the youngest ever to score a perfect 100 at the Olympics—beating even V. In a way, you saw Zen through Yoosung, and the both of you were content with that legacy. You put the phone down as Zen dropped off your children, who clumsily waddled off the shore of the frozen pond to run up to you.

“Did you see my spin, Mommy! Wasn’t it like Daddy’s?”

“Yes, Jeong, it was!” You clapped her red chubby cheeks with gloved hands, smooshing them together as she laughed. Jihyun followed closely behind, hugging your arm tightly.

“I want to show Uncle Jumin and Uncle V my skating routine when they come over! Do you think they’ll teach me new moves?”

“I want to see Uncle Luci! He gives me chips!”

“Auntie Jaehee gets mad when you eat too many chips!” Jihyun teased, sticking his tongue out. “You’ll get fat!”

“She gets mad at _you_ when you do nothing but play games all day too!”

“So? Uncle Yoosung says it’s cool of me!”

“Now, now. Everybody’s super busy, you two!” you scolded lightly, squeezing their noses simultaneously. “Uncle Yoosung’s going to perform in Taipei tonight. We have to cheer him on, okay?”

“Can we practice more, Mommy?” Jihyun asked, his red eyes shining brightly. Jeong nodded so energetically you thought her head might fly off. 

“Please please please?” they chanted together in unison. 

“Ten more minutes,” you decided, unable to say no to their shining faces. “And then we have to go inside to warm you up. Okay?”

“Okay!” they chorused, heading back off onto the ice. They skated past Zen, who side stepped them easily, a light smile on his face. He walked close to you and sat with you on the bench.

“Care to warm me up?” he asked in a low whisper, not meant for the two children busy holding hands as they practiced their spins.

“Sure,” you said cheekily, thrusting the thermos of hot chocolate between the two of you. “Drink up.”

He pouted and pushed the thermos down and out of the way, leaning forwards to kiss you. His face was frigid like marble stone from the biting winter weather, but the kiss was warm, melting away all memories of the cold.

When you said that Zen never performed again, you had only meant that he never set foot into a competition. For you had seen him dance for you and you alone plenty. Your favourite of many was the last performance, the one he had dedicated to you all those years ago. While the first had gone so wrong, the second time had gone so right. Because he had finished on one knee, a ring balanced in his hands. Roses were scattered around him but they were not dyed red with despair—rather, these roses had been white, as pure and lovely as his love for you. (You would have said the love was innocent, but after what the two of you had gotten up to, you didn’t think the adjective quite applied. So, pure and lovely it was.)

“I love you,” he whispered into your ear, burying his face into your scarf. You laughed to cover up the sudden blush that warmed your cheeks, hugging your arms around him tightly. 

“I know. I love you too.”


	2. [saeyoung choi ; teacher au]

“Jumin! Jumin, listen to this!”

“We’re still in school,” Jumin sighed in a low monotone, having had this conversation one too many times. He continued to stir his crappy break room coffee, taking a slow sip in the hopes that the mediocre caffeine would combat the drowsiness of exam season marking. He continued in the same deep drawl that put many of his students to sleep. “So you will refer to me as Professor Han.”

TA Kim—better known as Yoosung to both adoring students and sympathetic teachers—scowled and waved off the older economics teacher. “Sure, sure. Whatever, but did you hear?!”

“Hear _what_?” Jumin asked, irritable. He was already regretting assigning the next project to his students, because it meant more marking. Turning to the side, he whispered to Jaehee, his personal teacher’s assistant. “Why don’t you hear Yoosung out while I go to prep?”

“I—” Jaehee attempted to protest, but the black-haired man was already leaving, a hand in the air to wave lazily. Jaehee sighed through her nose and adjusted the papers in her arms.

“What is it, Yoosung?” she asked, also tired from the work shunted to her by Professor Han. 

“Guess who came to school together.” Yoosung seemed immune to the cloud of drowsiness hanging around the faculty members and was positively bouncing on his heels. 

“Yoosung,” Jaehee groaned. She launched into a speech she had been rehearsing, having learnt it directly from the principal. “Just because we work in a high school does not mean we are allowed to partake in childish gossip—!”

“The drama teacher and the math teacher.”

“Zen?!” Jaehee squeaked, just about choking on her own surprise. Her hands flew up to her face eagerly as she leant close, whispering. “I-I mean… Professor Ryu? And Professor [Surname]? _Really_?”

“She was wearing his helmet and everything. I saw them in the lot. What does this mean? Are they dating?”

“They _were_ fairly close during the last PD day…” Jaehee murmured, thinking back.

“PD… PDA… I think we’re onto something,” Yoosung gasped. 

“Onto what?”

Jaehee muffled a startled yelp as another familiar voice rang out from behind Yoosung. Yoosung turned on the spot like a stiff rickety top, revealing the tall red headed computer science professor tossing a can of soda up and down in his hand. Sodas weren’t available in the vending machines on campus, but that didn’t stop Professor Choi from bringing in his own junk. 

“Nothing!” the two young teachers-to-be chorused, turning around simultaneously and darting out the door one by one. Saeyoung’s golden eyes narrowed somewhat and he cocked his head, muttering to himself.

“The drama teacher and [Name], huh…?”

The cool can of phD pepper crinkled under his tightening grip.

\---

You sighed to yourself, ignoring the muffled snickering of your students as your eyes scanned the blackboard. Terrible drawings of cats and spaceships marred the previously perfect surface, childish drawings mucking up the formulas and practice questions you had written up during prep. Hastily, you wiped particularly crude words off of the quadratic formula, turning to your class.

“You know what? I’ll just let you do have a work period,” you decided tiredly, swiping male genitalia out of view with your palm, your mood worsening when you found that the erasers had been stolen. You gripped a chalky hand and marched out the door, grumbling to yourself. “I have somebody I need to send to detention…”

“ _Saeyoung Choi_!”

You knew that he didn’t have a class during third block and often slept in the computer lab, having set up an elaborate fort underneath his desk. You marched into his room and pushed aside the blankets, rousing him from his nap. 

“Ooh, you’re mad. What happened? Did 1+1 stop equalling two or something?” he asked, his voice a bit husky from sleep. You took his wrist and yanked him out from under his desk, letting him stand up to his full height. He yawned behind a hand as you scowled up at him.

“Why’re you messing with my class?” you demanded. “I already told you, I wasn’t the one who took your Honey Buddha Chips from the staff room—”

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he said smugly with a soft, almost lopsided grin that perfectly complimented his bright unkempt hair. Saeyoung was probably the worst dressed person in the entire school, beating out the competition by wearing the same old hoodie every day with the same wrinkled jeans. It was against school policy and regulation, but Saeyoung was the only one willing (and capable) of teaching advanced computer science to wanting students. Principal Han had grit his teeth and let it slide, to much fussing and complaint at staff meets. Despite the dishevelled appearance, you could smell the gentle aroma of soap off of him from standing this close and couldn’t help but lose your train of thought as he started to draw in closer.

“What’s up? Want me to fix your computer or somethin’?” 

“Don’t touch my computer! I don’t want to know _what_ you’ll put on it!” you shrilled, finally catching yourself and taking a single step back. You continued to frown at him. “Seriously, Saeyoung… did I do something to upset you?”

“Dunno what you’re talking—”

“ _Saeyoung Choi_.”

His eyebrows rose, shooting up from behind his dirty glasses. “You’re using your teacher voice on me.”

In the same measured teacher voice you used on particularly misbehaved students, you reclosed the gap, prodding a finger into his chest (a luxury that you were able to afford, due to the fact that Saeyoung was not a student, much to everybody’s constant disbelief). 

“I asked, _are you upset with me_? Don’t lie to me. I can see through you.”

With those words, his facade fizzled away with the quiet popping of an open can of soda. Drinks weren’t allowed in the computer lab, but Saeyoung did as he wished, as always. It was what you admired most about him. If he would just _figure that out_. He took a shuddering breath in, his gaze finally flicking away from yours as he looked to the floor guiltily.

“The students are all saying that you’re dating Zen.”

“Zen… Hyun?” the ex-actor’s stage name still wasn’t as familiar to you and your brow crinkled when it did click. “Why?”

“W-why?!” he spluttered. “The two of you came to school on his motorcycle! I checked the security feed, so I know!”

“Oh,” you realized, remembering. “Right. We’re not dating.”

“So why’d you come to school with him?” he accused. Your expression hardened when you realized the sheer pettiness stemming from his tone.

“ _Because_ , a student needed help and reached out to us. We were at the police station all night, and he very kindly took me to school this morning since my car was still in the school’s parking lot.”

“…oh.”

“ _Oh_ is right!” you huffed. It wasn’t a very long story at all and Saeyoung’s genius-level IQ was able to process it all easily enough. His pale skin reddened to compliment his hair and he began to shift uncomfortably.

“The board and the erasers aren’t even why I’m mad!” you continued to rant, totally on a roll now that all the floodgates had been thrown open. “It’s that you would even think that I’d be dating Hyun in the first place. I mean sure, he’s nice, but are you _blind_ behind those glasses?! I’ve been trying to make a move on you for like, the whole semester! Why do you think I keep putting so much overtime in to see you? Sure as hell isn’t because I like the pay!” You wanted to stomp a foot to emphasise your point but decided that’d be too extra, instead choosing to clench your fists at your side. The anger evaporated from you now that you’d had your speech. You sighed again and turned heel, feeling hurt that Saeyoung wasn’t saying anything to you. “Whatever. I’ll get back to class.”

“W-wait!”

He managed to dance in front of you before you could leave, stopping you in your path. He shut the door behind him, locking it, much to your surprise. He continued to face the door, his hand on the handle as he collected his thoughts. When he turned back to you, his ears were still a bright red, but his lips were set tight with determination.

“You’re serious?” he asked in a low voice. “You’re not… lying?”

“Why would I?” you asked, a bit breathless with anticipation as he began to take steps towards you. Your heart raced in your ears. “I… like you.”

“Like, like like me?”

“Saeyoung,” you groaned. “We are _adults_. Please, just _kiss me_.”

And he complied happily enough, pushing you onto one of the desks. You shoved the monitor back a bit, making room for yourself before pulling away sharply to breathe.

“I have prep next period, so—”

“I know. I hacked into your schedule.” 

You knocked the glasses off of his face, accepting the continued flurry of kisses, not realizing that he’d forgotten to shut the blinds. TA Yoosung gasped to himself as he came back from the science office, his eyes catching on movement from inside the west wing computer labs.

“ _Wait ‘till they hear this!_ ” he whispered to himself, darting off with new gossip on his tongue. On yours, the sweetness of banned soda was almost sickening, but you just couldn’t get enough.


	3. [saeran choi ; father au]

“A photo?”

“Yeah, a family photo!”

He scoffed, rolling his cerulean eyes up to the ceiling with a disgruntled scowl. “Why would you want a family photo?” he drawled, sounding a bit cold if you didn’t know that it was just his way of expressing harmless apathy. 

“Because,” you whined, leaning over and tugging on his jacket sleeve to emphasize your point, “we need to cherish the memory. She’s going to grow up faster than you know it, Saeran. Don’t you want to be able to look back and remember?”

Mentions of his daughter immediately softened the young man’s face and he sighed. However, you knew your lover’s face well enough to see the shadow crossing over his pale features.

“Looking back and remembering… I never had a family picture, really. There was one that the woman Rika took, but it was no _family_ photo... Looking back holds nothing but shit for me anyways.”

You didn’t exactly have a response to that. You knew only the surface of it, from what Saeyoung had mentioned and what Saeran had admitted. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to chill you. He twiddled with the black ring on his left hand, a tell that told you that he was getting anxious. When the anxiety and paranoia got too much, Saeran would lash out and relapse into a wave of cold misery and suffering. But he’d gotten better lately. With you around, you were able to pull him out of it before he hurt anybody, including himself. And, especially with the feisty toddler running around, Saeran had been kept busy enough not to dwell on the deep hurt he had. Hoping that he’d recover completely was too much to ask for, you knew. He glanced up at you and reached out tentatively. You placed your hand in his, meeting him halfway, and he squeezed it between his cold fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I hurt you, didn’t I…?”

“Of course not,” you reassured quickly, placing your other hand around his so that you could warm the skin. “If you’re not comfortable, then that’s okay. I just think that it’d be nice to have when she’s older, you know?” You kept your tone upbeat and smiled to mask the disappointment—although you were completely ready to make the compromise, you really wanted to have physical proof of your daughter’s youngest days. 

Saeran shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers twitching slightly in your grip. You let go and stood.

“I’m going to go get din—”

“Okay.”

“—ner… what?”

He exhaled a bit sharply but gave you a weary but determined look. “If you want a photo… then fine.”

“Saeran,” you said softly, “if you really don’t—”

“You’re right,” he interjected. “Someday she’s going to stop being a cute little girl and grow into a beautiful woman… and my past doesn’t matter. It didn’t have you in it.” He stood and wrapped you into a powerful embrace, your hands finding purchase on his familiar shoulder blades easily. His smell filled you with the feeling of security and you relaxed into his embrace. “Back then I didn’t think about tomorrow. But now… I have a future.” He continued in his quiet but distinct voice. “And it has you and her in it, now. So I want to be able to remember _this_ past instead of my old past.”

Tears of joy welled in your eyes hearing him speak and you tightened your hold on him. “Thank you.”

“No,” he whispered, kissing you on the top of the head chastely. “Thank _you_.”

\---

“V never taught me anything about photography. I think he tried, but I fell asleep. Let’s see… all you do is press the button, right?”

“You’re holding it upside down, Saeyoung.”

“What?!” Your brother in law raised his glasses and squinted down at the camera. He laughed and flipped it around. “Oh, right. It is. Whoops! Ha! Maybe you should’ve asked Jumin to do this. That’d make a hell of a family pic—”

“Saeyoung,” Saeran hissed under a breath, clenching a fist firmly behind his back. “I swear to God…”

“Sorry, sorry! OK! On three I want a biiiiiiig smile from my cutie wutie bro-bro and his cutie wutie wifey and my cutie wutie widdle niece—”

“Saeyoung!” Saeran barked sternly. Your daughter burst into a fit of giggles and with a warm smile on your face, you tried to calm her down so that she would actually look at the camera.

“Ready?” Saeyoung asked cheerfully after waving off Saeran’s death glare. He stepped back and positioned himself on the field so that the sun wouldn’t get into the lens. 

“I was ready twenty minutes ago,” your husband grumbled bad-temperedly. You clasped his hand in yours and massaged the fingers open, slipping your fingers between his.

“Smile,” you reminded in a secretive whisper, already grinning at the camera. Saeran sighed loudly to make sure nobody forgot about his annoyance. He shifted your daughter’s weight so that she sat perfectly in the middle of you two. She curled her arms around both of yours, linking you two together. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Saeran giving you a fond look before directing his gaze to the camera.

“Three… two… one… cheese!”

Backlit with the beautiful sky, Saeran decided that perhaps photos were not meant to be keepsakes of a horrible past, but meant to be markers to be remembered in the beautiful future. 

“Ah! You blinked!” 

“You didn’t count down fast enough, idiot!” Saeran shouted back. Your daughter laughed hysterically once again and you sighed slightly, an exasperated smile on your face as Saeyoung dropped the camera into the grass.


	4. [jumin han ; surgeon au]

Doctor Jumin Han was cold. Maybe it was the forced air conditioning of the OR, or it was his disposition that made you feel as if you’d never feel happiness again.

To rewind to the start of your day, you were only just making your way inside the break room, where the other surgical interns were chattering away. A sour nervous energy that you could taste hung over the young, inexperienced MDs. Yoosung Kim tagged along at your side. The young blond man had been in your graduating class, and although you hated to admit it, you were glad to see him to relieve the anxiety of being in a new hospital. This was _it_. There weren’t going to be any more dummies, no more already dead guys—this was it. The real deal. 

“Who do you want to get?” he asked anxiously. You took your seat and then looked at him, frowning slightly.

“I don’t know. Who do _you_ want to get?”

At the very start of orientation, all interns would receive an attending senior through luck of the draw. You weren’t very familiar with the staff at the hospital, having done clinicals elsewhere, but Yoosung looked delighted to elaborate.

“First off, I definitely don’t want to go with 707.”

“What kind of a name is Dr. 707?” you asked, your nose crinkling.

“They only call him that because he’s done 707 successful surgeries. He’s like a genius. But I heard he’s… crazy. He makes interns do really weird things like buying all the chips from all the vending machines on the floor.”

“Okay… who else is there?” You were suddenly starting to get a lot more nervous than you thought you should be getting, a ghost image of you sprinting around the halls with armfuls of chips.

“There’s Zen—they call him that because he manages to relax his patients so much that they don’t even need anaesthesia—but I don’t want him either. He’s too good looking. Did you know that he’s famous because he did modelling in order to fund med school? I wish I could do that too. I’m still two hundred in debt. Or I wish I was good looking at all—”

“Yoosung. You’re rambling.”

“S-sorry. I ramble when I get nervous.” He scratched his head sheepishly. With a sigh, Yoosung looked backed to you, checking you over. “Well, you might have a good shot with Dr. Ryu since you’re a girl, but your patients might… forget about you. You know?”

“Isn’t there somebody else?” you pressed, remembering that there were three seniors on the floor that would be taking interns. Yoosung’s lips pressed into a tight line and he nodded warily.

“Yeah. Cold Cut.” He said this with a cringe, and you frowned.

“…like, a cold cut of ham?”

“No, they call him Cold Cut because he’s the most emotionless guy ever. He’s never cried once. He treats all of his interns and nurses like trash. If you get him, you’re probably bound to drop out into geriatrics or something.”

“What’s his real name?”

“Dr. Han.”

“L-like, the dean of the hospital?” you gasped, your eyes widening as you recognized the name from your formal admission letter. Yoosung shrugged.

“I hear that Dr. Han’s the son of the dean. People say that he’ll make Chief of Surgery because of that… but there’s a lot of rivalry between Dr. Han and Dr. Ryu.”

“How do you know so much?” you asked, feeling quite left out on the hospital dynamics that kept getting more and more complicated the longer you listened. 

“My cousin’s fiancé is Chief of Ophthalmology. It’s a small world, I guess.”

“A small world, huh…” Your voice died away as a small woman came through to the front of the room, a handful of popsicle sticks clutched in her fist. Her amber eyes gleamed behind glasses and she stood severely, tucking short-cropped hair behind an ear.

“Listen here!” she called, her voice ringing around the room clearly. A blanket of silence fell from wall to wall as people leant forwards with anticipation. “The name on this stick will be the name of the man who gets to ride you down into the ground for two whole years. There will be no take backs, no trading, and no crying. If you want to cry, which some of you will, do it in the hallway please. Do you understand?”

“That’s Jaehee Kang,” Yoosung whispered as a muttered ‘yes’ went around the room. “She’s the head perioperative nurse and works almost every surgery with Dr. Han.”

“She looks like she hasn’t slept in three years,” you remarked. Yoosung snorted.

“Probably hasn’t.”

Names were being called. Some people celebrated openly and some people’s faces drained of blood as soon as they read the name on their stick. A girl fainted with a grin on her face, and you guessed that she had Dr. Zen.

“Kim Yoosung?”

Yoosung gulped a huge breath down and walked to the front, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as he drew a stick. When he made his way back to you, it was rather like you were seeing an empty shell of a ghost come back rather than Yoosung.

“What is it? Who’d you get?” you hissed desperately. He showed you his stick silently and you read Saeyoung Choi’s name.

“I’m not going to make it to residency,” Yoosung mumbled dreamily. Before you could console him, Jaehee looked up and called your name.

You didn’t scare easy and you had a strong stomach—all basic traits of a surgeon, yes. But walking to the front was making your heart race. Your eyes danced over the popsicle sticks, wondering who was going to make or break you. One of them looked like it was easier to grab than the others. Your fingers grazed across a couple before landing on it. You pulled it out slowly as if it might delay the inevitable and then your heart sank right into the floor.

“Congratulations,” she said with mild surprise, jotting your name down on her list. When she looked at you, you could practically taste the sympathy (or perhaps, it was just pity.)

“You’re with Dr. Han.”

\---

“You’re the new interns?” he asked apathetically in a severe voice, looking over the group of eight that had been selected to work with him. You nodded abruptly, realizing he was looking directly at you. He studied you with black eyes, blank enough to remind you of a frozen over lake in the middle of January. You shivered uncomfortably. 

“You. What’s your name?” he said suddenly, snapping his fingers at you like he might with a dog. Startled, you stood up straighter.

“[Surname] [Name]?” You weren’t sure why you were so unconfident in front of him, but he looked disappointed with you nonetheless, like you’d gotten your own name wrong.

“Fine. I’ll need a woman around when I break the news to this family. Come. The rest of you can do overnight labs—ask Nurse Kang about it—you. I said come. Why are you just standing there?”

He had already been walking off and you had to run to catch up with him, his white coat trailing behind him almost like a king’s cape. When he was done giving orders, he was silent as he walked, and you figured that it was up to you to get a conversation running.

“Um… thanks for letting me on this case, but why did you ask for me?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re the only girl. You women are all touchy-feely. I’ll need you to tell this family that their daughter is going to die.”

It wasn’t the words that stopped you dead in your steps. You knew that people were going to die. That was life—there was death. But it was the _way_ he said it that horrified you. He didn’t stop but glanced back irritably.

“What is it? Don’t make me fire you on your first day for incompetency.”

“Y-you can’t… what? No! You can’t just say it like that!” You raced to catch up with him and forcefully threw yourself in front, stopping him before he could move forwards any longer. “These people have feelings—emotions—you can’t just say that their daughter isn’t going to make it like… well, like that! You can’t be so cruel! And isn’t it our job to do everything we can to save somebody’s life?”

“Bedside manners are _your_ role,” he replied flatly. “Not mine. Do they still teach you that in med school?” He scoffed, running a large hand through his dark hair. His gaze bore into yours and you felt frozen into the spot. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Detaching yourself is the only way you can be a good surgeon. Pompous flops like _Dr. Ryu_ will tell you that it’s all in the ‘passion’, but none of that matters. When your patient’s a slab of meat, you’re the cutter, and emotions get in the way. Sometimes there’s no point in doing everything you can. So you’d better learn that fast. She’s got problems that we can’t fix, so she’ll probably die. End of story.”

He side stepped you easily and continued on his way.

\---

You didn’t even want to follow him into the room after hearing him talk, his words weighing heavily on your chest. However, Jumin’s pager went off with a sharp triple-tone. He unclipped it and then inhaled sharply, suddenly breaking into a run, practically leaving you behind as you realized you had to chase after him.

“What is it?” you asked frantically, your shoes hitting tiles hard as you attempted to match the tall man’s pace. You hardly wanted to talk to him anymore, but there were people running around you too, and you had a bad feeling.

“Code blue,” he said through gritted teeth, and you could feel your heart rate quicken angrily. “Get to pre-op, you’re scrubbing in!”

“Scrub—but it’s my first day! I haven’t even read this girl’s charts before!”

He ignored you and disappeared behind a turn, leaving you breathing hard and alone.

\---

“Clamp.”

“Yes Doctor.” 

You saw Jaehee look up, giving you a curious glance underneath her glasses before returning her attention to Jumin. You’d scrubbed in, just as he said, but he hardly paid you any attention anymore. You might as well have gone home for all he cared. You watched as silver metal glinted from the harshly bright surgical lights. Standing here, Jumin’s hair seemed to glow, making him look as if he had a halo. Like he were some sort of angel.

Just as you thought that, you realized that the girl’s heart was failing. You hadn’t been paying much attention but the green line took a nosedive, jumping erratically into tachycardia. It took a matter of two seconds to flat-line and Jumin cursed loudly.

“Paddles. Charge to two hundred and push epinephrine. Clear!”

You flinched as the shock went through. Your body was tense and your own heart was racing, as if to compromise for the girl’s. Somebody touched her neck and shook their head.

“Three hundred. Clear.”

Nothing.

“Clear.”

“Doctor…” Jaehee sighed through her mask, her eyelashes fluttering. It had already been a five-hour surgery and you could tell that there was a cloud of exhaustion hanging around the team. Everybody else was looking away. “I think—”

“Think _what_?” Jumin spat hotly, with such fiery emotion that you could’ve never imagined from the statue-like man. You couldn’t help but stare, wide eyed, as he yelled. “Nobody’s called time. Dr. [Surname], do you give up on this girl?”

Realizing he was looking right at you, you swallowed and shook your head quickly. It was an easy decision. You hadn’t read her chart and you only just learnt her name, but God be damned if you would give up too early.

“No.”

“Then she has no time of death.” Jumin looked away from you, and with the mask you couldn’t tell what his expression was. Still, there had been some sort of gleam behind his goggles, something like approval. “Do you hear me? Let’s move, people! Clear!”

The nurse standing at the girl’s head suddenly looked up, eyes shining wide.

“She… I can’t believe it. She has a pulse, doctor. She’s stabilizing.”

You heard Jumin sigh slowly, lowering the paddles. He glanced back at you. He hesitated somewhat, but then seemed to decide against something.

“Dr. [Surname].”

“Y-yes?” You stood stick straight, fully aware of the many pairs of eyes on you.

“Come here. You can help me close up when we finish cauterizing.”

“I can? I mean—yes, thank you!” You scurried close, knowing that interns hardly ever got to do anything, and that Jumin was really throwing you more than a bone. You glanced up at him and saw that he was already looking at you. He studied you before glancing back down, something other than the lights making his eyes sparkle with warmth. You thought you’d seen it before, but now you were sure.

“Hold the rib spreader.” 

Your hands brushed against his, and despite the gloves, you felt as if it had been the most intimate thing you’d ever felt from somebody before.

\---

“And after total asystole and multiple haemorrhages—”

“What he means to say,” you interrupted before he could launch into a medical play-by-play that you knew the family didn’t care for, “is that your daughter fought through a lot of things. But she’ll be fine. She’s strong.”

“Oh… oh, thank god!” the mother cried. She surged forwards and wrapped her arms around Jumin, the tall man stiffening underneath her and glancing to you with a flash of panic as if calling for help. You choked back a laugh as he closed his eyes with irritation, waiting for the woman to dry her tears on his scrubs before pulling away.

“Thank you doctor,” the father said, his eyes brimming with tears. Jumin merely put his hands in his pockets.

“Somebody told me that I needed to do everything I could, so I did,” he replied easily. You realized, as if he’d shocked you at 300 Joules, that he was referring to you. Six hours of surgery exhaustion drained away and you had to press your lips together to stop from grinning idiotically. He glanced at you shortly before leaving the room, and you smiled at the family before following after.

\---

“You had an eventful first day.”

“If that can even begin to sum it up… but you were amazing. She was dead and—and then she wasn’t! You literally brought her back to life!”

He snorted with amusement as you stumbled over your own excitement. “Although I can’t agree with your childish terminology… yes.”

“What does it feel like? To save a life like that? To be the only one to stop somebody from dying?”

“It’s a burden,” he replied. But then, in a quieter but softer tone, he added, “but it’s… good. It’s a good feeling.”

“You’re not as cold as you want people to think,” you remarked. Maybe it was the exhaustion of the surgery or the adrenaline of saving a girl’s life that gave you the confidence to tell off your attending, but you continued. “I can tell. You’re like the rest of us. You’re just better at hiding it.”

“You’re perfectly right.”

You looked up at him with mild surprise as he leant on the railing, looking down into the foyer with nostalgic eyes.

“When I was an intern, I had six patients die on me in a single day. I was distraught. I cried, I contemplated suicide… and I wished that I hadn’t had any emotions. I wished that I couldn’t feel what I was feeling. Only then could I be perfect.”

“But you’re not perfect,” you said. “You’re human.”

“Yes… human. A sad human with… sad human desires…” he was looking at you very closely now, with experienced eyes that knew how to dissect and close and knew exactly what he wanted. Hesitation could mean death so he didn’t hesitate at all, and you were suddenly aware of him kissing you. It wasn’t even surprising at this point. Despite the smell of the OR still lingering, he was like a fresh summer’s breeze. Your shoulders relaxed as he pressed into you harshly, exploring you, a bit of mischievous tentativeness hidden in his own dominance.

In a hospital it was almost impossible to tell whether it was day or night outside. It was like a portal into another universe where time stopped existing. Still, it didn’t even matter if it was dark outside, because the heat of his lips on yours was like the sun shining down on your face.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said snappishly, pulling away abruptly as if nothing had happened. “I won’t give you any special privileges for this. And I still expect you to finish the overnight labs and the operation write up by tomorrow morning.”

“Fine,” you sighed, almost whiney. But you were smiling.

Doctor Jumin Han was warm. Maybe it was the heating vent over top of you, or maybe it was just the soft smile he returned to you. When scalpels are cold and dead bodies are colder, you found that the warmth of his touch was enough to make you feel all right again.


	5. [jihyun kim - v ; guardian angel!au]

“Um… do you need help?”

You clutched your groceries a little closer to your chest as the man in front of you turned, and kept on turning. You cleared your throat awkwardly.

“I’m over here.”

“Oh. Yeah, sorry. Could you tell me which way the hospital is?”

“The hospital?” you asked, a bit incredulously. “That’s like… a whole twenty minutes away by train, I think.”

“Ah, that’s unfortunate… I lost my seeing eye dog, so I’m not really sure where I am right now.” He scratched his head and you sighed. It was pretty evident the guy didn’t know where he was, as the blue haired man had been attempting to walk into a wall until you came in to help him. 

“Here,” you said, gently taking his arm and curling it around yours. “I’ll help you get to the hospital. Which one is it? The University one?”

“Yes, that sounds accurate.”

“Okay,” you chirped cheerfully. “Follow me, then.”

“Won’t it inconvenience you?” he asked, stumbling along, his balance offset by his own towering height. “After all, I’m a stranger.”

You shook your head before remembering. “Ah, no. Of course it won’t. Nobody else seemed to be helping you, so I don't mind lending a hand. Careful, there’s a curb.”

“Thank you…? Sorry, I never asked your name.” His voice was pleasant and you were suddenly more aware of his hand gripping your bicep, warming it through the thin fleece. You were suddenly grateful that he was visually impaired, because he wouldn’t see the ridiculous blush on your cheeks. 

“[Name] [Surname]. Just [Name] is fine.”

“Thank you, [Name]. My name’s Jihyun Kim, but people call me V.”

“V?” you repeated. “That’s a little odd, but all right. I think it suits you.”

He smiled. “Yes… it does, doesn’t it?”

After all, V was his angel name.

\---

“So, I have something to confess—”

“Let go of me!” you screamed, thrashing in his arms. Your hand flew past a wing, its ethereal white feathers brushing against your palm. You screeched again, although your wild flailing was no match for his strength.

“What the hell are you?!” you cried.

“More like ‘what the Heaven’, but this reaction is granted,” V muttered to himself. 

To make a long story short, you’d taken the wrong turn in an attempt to get V to the University Hospital. It was a pretty nasty street and the moment you stepped foot into the alleyway, several gangbangers had surrounded you, already rubbing their palms with the good fortune of catching a blind guy and a weak woman. You had pretty much given up already before V took off his sunglasses like some blockbuster superhero, ripped his shirt off with his wings, and schooled the thugs with the holy magic of God.

Yeah, you didn’t really quite understand what happened either. 

“Where are you taking me?” you yelled over the wind. V had picked you up and flown up and away without even asking you for permission. You quit struggling, seeing as you were getting nowhere with it, and instead hugged yourself tight to his body. A quick peek down had immediately dizzied you and you would prefer not to think about the fact that the only thing standing between you and plummeting to death was a half-naked blue-haired winged guy.

“Back home.” V’s voice was pleasantly unsurprised, as if revealing his status as a divine child of God was no big deal.

“H-home?! Are you even going to explain what’s going on?”

His wings, rippling with gold flecks, flapped powerfully in time with the heartbeat you could hear in your ear. He chuckled.

“Is it really that interesting?”

“You’re a _freaking flying guy_ —of course it is!”

V merely laughed again. “In all my years, I’ve never had anybody react to me like this. Hold on tightly, would you?” He pressed your face to his chest and you felt the warmth from his bare skin on your reddening face.

“A-at least put a shirt on when we get back to my place!”

\---

Now that V was re-clothed (albeit in a shirt much too small for him, leaving nothing to the imagination anyways), you sat him down in your kitchen and poured yourself a large, large cup of coffee.

“Explain,” you demanded, slamming the mug down so hard that the liquid sloshed onto the table.

“Well… you see, I’m your guardian angel.” He spoke as if he were casually admitting that he was somebody in your Biology 1001 class. “I can predict your future. And if I hadn’t come across your path, those thugs would have killed you tonight.”

Suddenly, the anger and confusion of everything sucked away into muted horror. “Killed me?” you blurted out. “Like… for real?”

“Yes. Now, it’s against the code to interfere and rescue humans directly from their fate, but…” he played with a water stain on the table, his bright blue eyes practically glowing as he thought. “I couldn’t leave you. I’ve known you since you were born, [Name]. You didn’t deserve the fate my Father had outlined for you.”

“You knew me since I was born?” you questioned a bit nervously.

“Yes. I was assigned to you as soon as your mother had you.”

 _Then he saw my nasty weeaboo phase when I was 10?!_ you realized, hiding the hot blush with a hasty swig of coffee.

“Wait. So… what now, then?” you asked, as the pieces started to settle. You hadn’t really accepted that the guy was your ‘guardian angel’ yet, but since he had flown you halfway across Seoul you weren’t exactly adamant about denying it either. “If you broke the law or whatever you call it, what’s going to happen to you?”

“My brother Jumin will probably fly down to yell at me for a while. Nothing serious will happen though. They all quite took a liking to you, as well. My sister Jaehee, particularly, is fond of when you were a child and sang to the tune of—”

“That’s enough!” you interjected, not wanting to hear horror stories of your past. You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. “Well, all right. Now that I know you’re around, what’s going to happen?”

“I was always watching over you, but now that you know of my existence I might as well be of more use to you. For starters, I can wash your dishes that you’ve left in the sink for three weeks. I can also make you homecooked meals so that you don’t eat instant ramen for—”

“Okay!” you yelped. It was embarrassing to have somebody know so much about you. Even your closest friends only knew your face value. It had always been hard, being alone with nobody to nag at you. V seemed to know what you were thinking and smiled.

“As your guardian angel, I’ll also protect you from loneliness.”

“Wh—excuse me?”

“Angels weren’t meant to feel. We are supposed to be unaffected by the deadly seven. But…” V suddenly looked away for the first time, a gentle pink dusting his porcelain skin. “Perhaps selfishness has taken hold of me for the time I have spent here.”

You inhaled deeply. You thought about it. You considered what might happen to you if you threw an angel out of your home. Finally, you came to a decision.

“Okay,” you declared, closing your eyes. “I have a winged guy that’s going to follow me around and cater to me, is that it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say _cater_ , more like _protect from harm_ —”

“It’s harming me that I don’t have any curry udon in my stomach!” you exclaimed slyly, feigning a pout. “If only somebody could help me with that.”

V smiled fondly, getting up and deciding to play along. Even if selfishness had gripped him, he had learnt another human emotion on his time here on Earth—love. That night, he settled you into bed, the ends of his wings brushing your nose like an angel’s kiss. 

Later, after much exhausted energy from trying to get the over-protective V off your back, you realized you loved him. Despite being far from human he seemed to be the most human-like person you had ever met, having faults that he admitted to and desires that he tried to tame. There was nobody else that you wanted to return your love than him. Your friends saw his overwhelming kindness and called him an angel.

If only they knew they were right.


End file.
